The Unreal City
by SummitB
Summary: For I myself saw the Sibyl indeed at Cumae with my own eyes hanging in a jar; and when the boys used to say to her, "Sibyl, what do you want?" she replied, 'I want to die."
1. Prologue

**A/N: For those who might have noticed, I've put parts of this already on the /bsg/ prior. I'm now putting it here both both simplicities sake and for the ability for others to read. Feel free to comment and criticize, and I'd be glad to answer any questions. **

**Thank you,**

**Summit**

"_There is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind…"_

When I was a younger man, my uncle presented me with some advice which to this day I've been rolling about in my head ever since.

"There isn't any man" he said "who doesn't rightfully believe what he is doing isn't for all the right reasons. Every man deserves to be judged at the individual level, and never from first impressions. If you can keep your mind clear and your eyes diligent, it will allow you to go far in the public duty; do not allow yourself to be taken in by demagogues and false prophets. And for those that do, those who are led astray and lead to such great tragedies that make up the human condition, do not judge them either. Don't be so quick to judge humanity to be evil, my boy, for every evil you will find there will be an equal or greater good to counteract it. Titles, achievements, and names are all abstract things my boy: it is only deeds which truly matter."

Those words were the last I ever heard from him, as I was whisked away back to the home of my parents in New York. You see, my father happened to work for the diplomatic services of the United States government when he met my mother in England. She and my Uncle were of an old and still quite wealthy family, and he took it upon himself, with my father's permission, to raise me in the "proper" way. So for seventeen years I lived with him, traveled the British Empire and met some of the most influential men in the world with his connections. He had expectations for what a man should be, what a man should strive to, and the particular way nature and proper society believed should be accomplished. It all helped make me into the man I am today. My name is James Thomson, Dr. James Thomson PhD., though I would prefer not to stand on any ceremony here.

My uncle's words have given me, perhaps, a particularly useful insight for my profession. Indeed it's given me a sort of patience and meticulousness to my work, and a willingness to accept new or unconventional ideas. Many of my peers accept this as reckless and dangerous, but I see it as a matter to advance the knowledge and abilities of the human race. They see it as an excuse to slander me out of any good scientific works. Once, I had a certain excitement about things and a true wonder of what awaited in the universe. I wanted to understand and to know, to fully rationalize every around me and to see that the world was in uniform manner. Sadly the more I learned the less this hope seemed true, but my studies continued onward. I dreamed of the day when I would be able to see what other worlds awaited.

Then came the Great War … and everything changed. I hope you don't mind if I suspend any details of my experiences of what I endured, but I will say that I blindly ran off to join the Canadian Expeditionary Force when the whole thing began. By some miracle I survived long enough to return home. But I do believe that a part of myself was forever torn by what I'd experienced and what I'd seen. It is difficult to describe the exact feeling, but it was almost as if my soul had gone in rebellion of itself and created two distinct sides of my personality, each taking both the positive and negative traits within me. Whatever struggle was going on metaphysically, it was only doubled by the troubles I had in my own life: I could hardly sleep and I took to drinking. I distanced myself from friends and relatives, and soon found myself living out of a hovel on the Massachusetts coastline. It was there I met a Dr. Ernest Heinrich, a German expatriate who also happened to be within the same field of Physics as I associated myself. We began working together off of notes from a book Dr. Heinrich had found- an effort to discover a way to tear into different realities. According to Dr. Heinrich's testimony he had done it himself a few times before, but he was looking to perfect the process. And so I joined him, burying myself in work in order to forget the terrors which so often afflicted my mind. And so time passed, and now I may begin my story in earnest.


	2. The Cruelest Month

I.

_The Cruelest Month_

It was a rather dreary April morning in 1922, as hard rains continued to pelt the town in which I called home. That morning Dr. Heinrich had contacted me, urging me to come to our laboratory at great haste: he'd finally made a breakthrough. So I grabbed my coat and hat, and left the small apartment I lived in. I arrived a little less than a hour later with the weather the main cause of delay. He lived at a nearby lighthouse station, as far from general society as he could make it. It sat on a mostly wooded hill with a distinctly poor quality road leading to it, and the only other direction lead to rocks and freezing water. Dr. Heinrich had once explained that his original workshop was destroyed by anti-German rioters during the war. He always said this particularly laboratory was his salvation, his measure of freedom which I could not quite understand. He never seemed to leave either, only hiring an older woman who came to do his laundry and cook his meals.

When I arrived, Dr. Heinrich was not to be found in the main lab, but a small note sat on the workbench informing me to proceed to the lighthouse. The entire lab, which normally was obsessively organized, had an abandoned look about it. Everything was strewn about and moved, busted glass covered the floor and the fireplace was burning with his notes inside. For me to say I wasn't a little concerned would be an untruth. He was destroying years of his -and my- work now, taking it well away from the hands of posterity. I quickened my step as I exited the back door and proceeded to the lighthouse. The rain continued to fall.

"Dr. Heinrich?" I called, pushing open the door and taking a few steps inside. The lights were on and a machine I had never seen before sat across the room. It reached well up into the building's spire, and in between the twin pylons that projected electricity there was a something almost like a film just sitting there. I approached it, cautiously looking at the oddity until I was called by a familiar voice.

"I wouldn't recommend that, Dr. Thomson." Ernest Heinrich was a man in his mid 40s. His blond hair was already balding, though he made up for it with his beard. He was tall and broad shouldered, though he usually stood with a slump that made him seem far smaller. He never spoke with much of an accent either, except on the rare occasion I found him inebriated. He nervously walked across the room to close the door,and he bolted the locks.

"Just as my notes were not yours to destroy, Ernest." I replied, still admiring everything in the room. I'd never been allowed in here, and even if I had the things I was now witnessing were so, so alien that I could scarcely trust my own eyes.

"I must apologize for that, but we do not have much time. There are men coming, terrible men, who are seeking to sabotage what we've done. They are dangerous, James. We must hurry." He hurried across the room to grab a small box that was sitting on a desk. The entire walls of the building were covered in notes and scribbles, timelines and sketches of things I have never seen before. I stood there for some time, taking it all in.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Heinrich, but what in the name of God is all of this? Diving suits and floating cities, space rockets and automatons. Are … are these from your prior experiments, before it was all destroyed originally?"

"They are, yes. That there is Heliopolis … and that is Rapture … and there's Britannica … and Nova Roma … and that last, that last one is Columbia. All quite fascinating in their own regards. I spent the better part of sixth months working through different ones, learning what I could and borrowing a few things here and there. And then, I guess it was a decade ago now, it all stopped working. Until tonight."

Dr. Heinrich slowed a bit and hammered out a few things on his machine. He ran his hand along it like most men would a prize winning horse. He picked up a satchel and handed it to me. Inside were some journals, a Colt M1911 not unlike the one I had in France. Why I needed a weapon I had no clue at the time. Outside I could hear the sounds of several cars coming to a stop.

"So what exactly am I going to be doing exactly?" I said, flipping through several photographs that were tucked away in a journal which apparently belonged to a R. Lutece, of who I was not quite familiar with.. Dr. Heinrich hurriedly passed me a small box with instructions to attach it to my belt, another piece connected by wire wrapped around my wrist.

"Strive, seek, find, James. I feel you'll find what it is you've been wanting out there."

Someone was beating on the door.

"Now, I need you to stand between the pylons now." He said calmly, as more beating began. I could tell he was nearly in a panic.

"Dr. Heinrich, we know you are in there. BY ORDER OF THE FUHRER OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!" a voice shouted from outside.

"Find the uncaged bird that sings the sweetest songs, and beware the men who call the moon home. Now go, friend. Do not worry about me; I am already dead."

As he opened the tear, the other arrivals managed to burst down the door. They were shouting in German, and two went to grab Dr. Heinrich with military precision. I, standing dumbfounded, was stuck with the conundrum of whether I should assist the only man I could call a friend these days or to honor his wish. Dr. Heinrich gave me a look of such defeat that I immediately knew what to do. One of the intruders, the leader I presume, raised his pistol and began to fire at the machine as I raced towards it. He hit it several times as I reached it. Something happened which I can't quite explain, and electricity stormed through the room. The tear seemed to close and there was a blinding flash of light around me and the smell of ozone, fire, and metal filled my nose.

My thoughts began to distort as my head spun. Thousands of images appeared in my eyes, histories and societies and worlds and world seemingly tore itself in two. I saw what was my own reflection driftin away as I began to fall rapidly in the air, through clouds until I collided with some kind of surface. In all honesty, I would equate my feeling to one of the times when I had been quite drunk and everything felt quite dull as I began to vomit.


	3. Is, Was, and Shall Be

II.

_Is, was, and shall be_

I awoke to the smell of ozone and vomit, laying in the center of a cobbled street. My head was still spinning, my body weak and for an extended stretch of time my muscles felt as though they were in active revolt against my mind. The world around me was spinning as I struggled to understand where exactly Dr. Heinrich's machine had sent me. I could make the presumption the machine had malfunctioned. This fact, of course, was highly concerning. As I sat there, I began to think about home and the creeping potential of the fact that, in less than a matter of five minutes, I had possibly separated myself from everything I had ever known in my life. I pulled my uncle's pocket watch from my wallet to find that both were spinning with no indication of slowing.

Once my senses were regained, I began to take in what I could of my surroundings. I was sitting in what looked like a city, but I could hear no sounds of life. It seemed to resemble some mis-match of Atlantic city and the covers of the post at my first look of things. That was the end of any familiarity, for when I turned my eyes upward everything took on a totally surreal atmosphere. Objects were floating freely in the sky above: buildings, automobiles, ships, and anything else one could imagine. Things randomly would come into existence and then vanish. Others simply seemed to melt and reform as if they were liquids quickly cooled and then heated again. All of this was so very confusing as I began to pick myself up. I limped over to a nearby ledge, and it was here I gained my first real view of my surroundings. I was in some kind of floating city, but what parts of it were still functioning were burned out skeletons of buildings. There wasn't a living thing present, and I honestly wondered if I was in hell.

In my wanderings I did acquire some sustenance and medical supplies, which greatly increased my constitution from the wreck I was not so long ago. I sat in this former grocer for some time, listening to a record player which was still functioning. It wasn't too dissimilar to the one Dr. Heinrich had in the lab, which led me to assume he'd visited this city once before. Perhaps this floating city was the Rapture he mentioned; it certainly resembled the stories an old friend had told me of what would happen.

Still, I let that stay distant as my mind as I pressed forward. I found that the little box Dr. Heinrich had given me allowed me to make the distinct usage of the fabric of reality, where I could (as the journal he gave me stated) "access the remains of other dimensions and other times" how that was exactly possible I'm still attempting to understand. However, it came into quite a high amount of use in traversing this already odd terrain.

Here I started to wonder if this was how it felt for my ancestors to stumble upon the ruins of some long dead city which had been destroyed. I could see the pride once held dear, the ambition and the hope this land had. This city had been around at "its" year of 1912, only a decade ago, and yet it seemed as it centuries were between my wanderings and those who first lived here. I was standing the center of a great plaza, looking up at the statue of a man who I could only identify as the founder of the city. His body had been torn in two, the torso lying broken to the side as the legs still stood tall. It reminded me of Shelley's poem that my uncle told to me whilst we visited Egypt once.

Look upon these works and despair. Such seemed to be the fate of all of our intentions. I supposed my world was no different, the war sucking all the life away from joy and hope. It seemed to be a constant, our continuous path towards misery and nothing else despite our highest hopes and dreams. Where we see potential, reality only finds it necessary to steal away that which we hope most for at the moment before we can grasp it, only to mock us as we continue to strive. I began to pity those who came to this city for whatever reasons, for their paradise was no better a world than the battlefields of France.

Now, I would have continued my way looking for some exit except the intruders from the lighthouse earlier found themselves tearing into the world around me. They were now quite heavily armed, and seeing no possible way to resist I raised my hands in defeat. I looked their leader in the eye as he approached me with a smug smile. He wore a dark overcoat and black hat, with glasses covering a face dominated by a scar.

"So you fought with ze stormtroopers, ja? A Yankee fighting under ze British ... there ist some irony in that. Doktor." He said to me, coming far closer than I could appreciate.

"The entire war. And you, fritz?" I said, staring back. His eyes were cold and almost lifeless to stare at.

"I must apologize, but I sadly did not enjoy ze war. I vas engaged inst other work." He motioned to the others to come grab me, but I managed to activate the generator in time to repair a nearby armed automaton. The attention of the Germans was quickly taken from me as it tore apart the first two men it fired at and allowed for me to escape. By the time I reached cover they had destroyed it with hand-held machine gun fire. I drew my pistol, and we began to exchange shots. This fighting went on for a good half-hour, with me being unable to free myself and my enemy being unable to enter the building I had hunkered down in. Somewhere along the line I had taken a wound, and I sorrowfully looked at the blood which was starting to ruin both my jacket and the suit I had been wearing underneath. Outside, I heard fritz shouting out various commands as they began to approach again. My vision was starting to blur.

I began to prepare for what would likely be my last stand. It was odd, surviving the war to end all wars and to die like this. I suppose it was some measure of completion of the dogged pursuit of science I'd placed myself in. I thought about a claim I had made to Dr. Heinrich about "either finishing our work or taking it to the grave." I started to laugh as bullets impacted into the wall across from me, and all I could do was slowly prepare myself for the inevitable. I never thought this was to be how I died: in the ruins of a souvenir shop somewhere between realities.

And then the shooting stopped, or should I rather say all of reality itself seemed to freeze. I looked out from my cover to see something which would sound better in scripture than in a scientific account. I watched as a single figure, a woman by her look, seemingly walking through the plaza. The plaza itself transformed into shoreline, with a great wave bearing down upon it. Like in the Book of Exodus we were consumed by the waves, thrown amongst debris and brine. I struggled to rise to the surface but the wound in my side prohibited any movement. I could not breathe as water clogged out my lungs. My arms desperately clawed out for aid, help, or salvation and I began to pray as during the fiercest bombardments of the war. Just as men I had known died suffocating on gas, I would suffocate in sea water. So this is it, Old Boy, I thought to myself. The end of the road.

And then a hand reached down and grabbed mine, pulling me away from it all. And for a moment I thought I had been taken by an Angel of God, before the light again dashed away and darkness took over my mind.


	4. Under The Brown Fog of a Winter Noon

III.

_Unreal City, under the brown fog of a winter noon_

"Anomaly, or curiosity?" One voice said, female with a slight accent.

"Bound or free would be the better question." Another replied, this time male.

"Well, have we ever seen him before?"

"Most certainly not, and _she_ hasn't either."

"Have you looked through his personal items?"

"Well I don't think he would appreciate that."

"Well, I believe he is not in a position to resist right now."

"Do you think she knows?"

"Why wouldn't she know? She did save him, after all."

"With our encouragement."

"Well, if we don't know there's some reason to suspect that she doesn't know."

"And why does he have my journal?"

"I haven't a clue."

"And how exactly did he get here."

"Not so much of an idea."

"Then perhaps we should ask him."

"Perhaps we should, once he awakes."

This conversation was exactly the first thing my senses recovered. For the second time in a day, I found myself returning from a state of oblivion to life, slowly becoming further and further confused by my situation. I found myself looking at the faces of two strangers with an impeccable similarity, the both of whom were also looking directly down at me. I was lying on some kind of bed, my wound was bandaged and most of my clothing was sitting off to the side cleaned of any blood. I groaned aloud as my eyes adjust to the light.

"He's awake."

"Indeed he is. But who is he?" They both looked at one another and then back to me as an obvious invitation to explain. I weakly sat up and stood, walking to grab my suit and coat. Feeling no real threat, and in certain need of any assistance as possible I decided to tell my entire story.

"My name is James Thomson, PhD. I was working with my associate in an experiment when we attacked and the device we were using malfunctioned and sent me here. The men who attacked me did as well, and a extremely confusing series of events has placed me here." I extended a hand in greetings, which both reciprocated.

"Do you see that, a man of learning. This might indeed be interesting." The man said, firmly grasping my hand after the woman.

"Certainly more so than no company, brother." The woman replied. In the back of my head there was a small voice showing its annoyance at her tone, but it was quickly shouted down by the multitude of voices which were still curious at our situation.

"Drs. Rosalind and Robert Lutece, at your service." They said in unison.

"Now, Dr. Thomson..."

"Please, just call me Mr. Thomson. I prefer to try and avoid any pretense that may come with it."

"_Mr._ Thomson, me and my sister were hoping you could explain why it is you were in the possession of one of my journals?" The man man asked rather curiously.

"From my partner, Dr. Ernest Heinrich. He claimed to have found it in a curiosities store." I honestly hadn't much considered it, but I had to wonder if this man was who Dr. Heinrich had gained so much of his ideas from. Perhaps they had worked together, or maybe something else entirely.

"I'm sorry, but I haven't the slightest idea of that name. Do you, Rosalind?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, he must be quite intuitive to have read my notes. Not many are familiar with Sanskrit, especially reversed."

"Seemingly so." They continued prattling on for a few more moments before I interrupted them again, quietly raising a hand and calling their names.

"This is all fascinating, but where is the woman who saved me?" Both Lutece's looked at one another, seemingly in silent discussion on what to say. This only raised my curiosity as to who exactly had helped me, and whether or not I was in some sideshow to Providence. It was Rosalind who spoke this time.

"That would be Elizabeth ... who you may be able to find in the house over there." She said, looking back over her shoulder at a small two story brick apartment.

"If she is there. She has a habit of running off." Robert chimed in.

I departed before they could fall into another discussion. When I turned back before leaving, I couldn't help but notice they seemed to have vanished into thin air. At this point I couldn't even call that strange anymore after my day's events.

The walk to the house was only a few small streets away, the brick building standing out as the only alive house in a sea of skeletons. In the front there were flowers in bloom as hummingbirds flew about them. Even the air had a fresh smell to it, unlike the rest of the world. It seemed to be the the midst of a bountiful spring, not winter. I knocked once at the door, waited, and then knocked again. After no responses I put it upon myself to see about opening the door. To my surprise it was unlocked, and I stepped inside to find a house full of art and pants, with soft music playing in the background. I'd never heard the song before, but I would be lying if I didn't enjoy the lyrics.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly _

_All your life _

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

Books lined just about every shelf. There was just about every great writer I knew of, from Homer to Vigil to Dante; Montaigne, Yeats, Dickens, Hugo, Shelley, even the likes of Emerson and Twain lined the various shelves. On the floor there were paintings, each seemingly hand done and almost the quality of a master piece equal to Da Vinci, Van Dyk, or Reubens. I begin to think that you may be getting tired of my amazement and confusion at everything I've seen so far, and I do apologize but to simply say I've never seen such a quantity of works like these before before in my life. I searched the entire house to no avail, only finding more empty rooms where this "Elizabeth" would be. I exited the back door to find myself in another garden, this one meticulous maintained just as well as those at the palaces of Europe. There again was sweet music, this time the voice of a young woman. She was singing a hymn, one I had never quite heard before in my life.

_We shall meet beyond the river,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_And the darkness shall be over,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_With the toilsome journey done,_

_And the glorious battle won,_

_We shall shine forth as the sun,_

_By and by, by and by._

_We shall strike the harps of glory,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_We shall sing redemption's story,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_And the strains forevermore_

_Shall resound in sweetness o'er_

_Yonder everlasting shore,_

_By and by, by and by._

_We shall see and be like Jesus,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_Who a crown of life will give us,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_And the angels who fulfill_

_All the mandates of His will_

_Shall attend, and love us still,_

_By and by, by and by._

_There our tears shall all cease flowing,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_And with sweetest rapture knowing,_

_By and by, by and by;_

_All the blest ones, who have gone_

_To the land of life and song—_

_We with shoutings shall rejoin,_

_By and by, by and by._

I approached silently, engrossed by her singing and not particularly paying much attention to my surroundings. She was sitting on a small bench, a tear open in front of her to something I couldn't see. She shut it the moment she heard me, abruptly standing and staring directly at me. She was tall and thin, with her brown hair cut short and a certain confidence in her stance. She wore a blue dress with a bird pendant around her neck, some keepsake from another time I assumed. Our eyes matched, and in them I saw both an experience and pain no person of her physical age should ever have. Even the men I knew at the front never had such a look in their eyes, as hers seemed to be staring into my very own soul.

"Who are you, how did you get here, and who were those men?" She asked, with a cold pensiveness. She gave me a look as if I was just as strange as the multitude of things I had seen today. She examined me with further unease as I stood there. I honestly didn't know how to react to everything, and chose silence as possibly the best option for the time being. She closed, and then suddenly threw her arms around me. I gave a bit of a yelp as she did so, my mind not exactly processing the memory of being almost drowned and now being embraced. She released and took a few steps back before looking at me again.

"I can't believe you're a real person. You're the first in almost an eternity..."


	5. And I Tiresias have Foresuffered

**First I'd like to say thank you for those reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts. I know all of this first bit has been kinda dull intro, but things should start picking up now. Anyway, thanks for the views and comments/criticism are always welcome!  
**

**Summit**

_IV. _

_And I Tiresias have foresuffered_

For a moment I was quite unsure of how to respond to the woman's questions. I stood there blankly like a fool to afraid to ask someone to dance, mouth slightly ajar and certainly not in the best of manner. My uncle would have been embarrassed, and frankly I kept telling myself old boy at least say something so you aren't cast into some abyss. I am not quite sure why it is I chose my wording that I did, but perhaps it was my attempt at being cute in relation to my present situation. And so I began to speak.

"O queen, have pity; for it is to thee first that I am come after many grievous toils, and of the others who possess this city and land I know not one." I immediately regretted those words as they left my mouth, cursing myself fervently at my own manners. The girl seemed to stifle a bit of a laugh at me, turning and gently stepping over to a rose bush where she plucked a single one in her hand.

"Though fortune change, endure thy lot; sail with the stream, and follow fortune's tack, steer not thy barque of life against the tide, since chance must guide thy course. Ah me! ah me! What else but tears is now my hapless lot, whose country, children, husband, all are lost?" She replied somberly, turning now towards the distant mass of ruins and suffering. I honestly began to wonder what the story of this place was rather than my own predicament.

"I asked you a question." she said quietly while turning back to me. Her eyes, even with all the pain inside them still held a sort of cold fury that would frighten most men. I almost understood the aloofness of the Lutece siblings earlier in mentioning her, the woman didn't seem to exude any real level of welcoming to her at all but continued to remain distant in her intonation.

"My name is James Thomson. I was working with my friend on an experiment when it malfunctioned and sent me here. As for the men I do not know. They arrived here and attacked me out of the blue. And now that I've answered you ... you are?" I tried to keep a polite and engaged tone, if anything to call my own nerves from the abject terror I still felt. I'd watched this woman utterly bring down a wave as if I was witnessing an ancient legend in action. I extended my hand out of habit, but she didn't accept the gesture.

"Elizabeth. Anna Elizabeth DeWitt." She said pulling away with a cautious look. I myself took a step away, honestly not sure why she reacted as she did but taking caution to heed. Even in introducing herself

"Well then, Miss De Witt, I came here to thank you for saving me. I admit I'm rather quite confused by this whole affair, but it would be rude for me to not at least extend this gesture. So, thank you very much for that one. I, uh, you perhaps wouldn't know the path back to where I came from would you?" I hoped at least to offer getting me away would work. She seemed to have some knowledge of these tears at least, and at the very least having someone point me into the proper direction was all that I really desired. Well, that and no longer being hounded by anyone trying to kill me or some other curiosity.

"I suppose I could." she said, stepping towards me and raising her hands in order to start bending reality, but she stopped as she looked directly at me again. Her arms slowly dropped as her head moved a little sideways in perplexity.

"This … this doesn't make any sense. No, I should be able to if I..." she gestured again to open a new tear, taking us to a barren wasteland devoid of any life. Above us were endless stars and black skies. "I didn't think anything of it. No, this shouldn't happen. I can see you, but you don't … don't fit anywhere. There's not a single other instance … that can't be right." Again and again we visited new realities, all almost consequently being just a different version of the waste land. There was nothing but emptiness in all the realms, as I saw the frustrations mounting in her eyes. She seemed to be exerting herself, flipping through tears as if they were a book but not a single one met her expectations. She stopped with a loud sigh and then turned her attention back towards me.

"I don't get it. I don't get it at all..." Miss DeWitt trailed away as she started walking back towards the house, the entire garden beginning to rot away as she distanced herself. I followed, out of both curiosity and anxiety. Inside I found her staring at a wall of drawings and maps, a chalkboard sitting with various lines and points to designate what appeared to be the worlds she'd were mountains of journals and other recordings, which I took to opening one of the available ones and skimming the first entry.

_New York, May 1912_

_-Followed Booker a ways out of curiosity as he took Anna to Paris today. It was a promise he had made her when she was young, the same he once made to me. I almost wonder if there is some piece of memory, some idea of what happened during his time in Columbia that helps him these days. I want to go speak with him, to see if he does but I know it wouldn't be wise. I feel the consequences would be too great, or the questions to many, or that my heart couldn't take the sadness of this separation. I never told him thank you._

While I was mildly listening to what she was saying, it was at this moment where I first noticed the most peculiar oddity when I looked at the room's standing mirror. I did not see my own reflection. Instead I saw a man who was older, wearing a well pressed suit and had a cigarette holder in his hand. I could not see his face, but I had the very odd feeling that he was watching the both of us. I thought nothing of it after everything else which had occurred.

"... this isn't tied to my powers waning like they have … it can't be because those other men were like how it usually is. Why is he different?" Apparently when my attention had gone elsewhere Miss DeWitt had begun to wander through the house, as I noticed the various notes and drawings which also lined the floors. I couldn't begin to list all the concepts that were proven or modeled, but I can say the only other entity with such knowledge would be the Lord God himself. She followed it like a pathway, on a few occasions stepping through her own tears and then reappearing elsewhere. This continued for several minutes, when she again appeared in my face.

"Who are you?" She said, looking me in the eyes again.

"I believe we've already had introductions, Miss..."

"Who. are. you. Your name, your past, everything..." There was almost an urgent fear in her voice, like a doctor calling for a nurse to bring some much needed instrument to mend some wound.

"James Thomson, Ph.D. I was born in Manhattan in the year 1894, in the third story bedroom of my father's house. My father's name is John and my mother's is Alice. I have two brothers and three sister, plus two other siblings who died early on. I am the oldest child in my family. I was mainly raised by my uncle and I briefly attended Cambridge ... Honestly I don't see the point of this." I said to her, rubbing my aching forehead with my fingers.

"You're lying. You have to be. You don't appear anywhere else. At all." I could see the frustration in her eyes and I honestly wanted to try to comfort her, but such an act would have been improper. I myself was still trying to understand how she arrived at the conclusion about the possibility of breaking the atom as well as the fact that the likelihood of returning home had hit an all time low.

"I don't get how you can be here and not exist in any other single form that I can find. I can't even see your own past. It's almost like your hollow apart from what's here..."

The front door at this point decided to explode, if only to make the situation worse. Miss DeWitt let out a scream while I collected myself and dove into cover. Down the hallway I could see what appeared to be a man in a large suit of armor, but at further glance I saw it was not man at all but an automaton. It stood tall and square, wearing golden armor and robes which gave the thing a sort of nobility to it. But when I saw the various pipes and protrusions leading up to the face. It wore a large helmet with a clear face mask which was a skull highlighted by the various lights coming from inside the armor. The figure began to laugh as it advanced slowly with a weight more resembling the tanks from the war than any man I'd ever seen. I fired my pistol at it, only to watch the rounds fly away harmlessly.

At this point Miss DeWitt had recovered, stepping towards the monstrosity almost daring it to attack her. She began trying to open one of those tears, much like the wave earlier I assumed. The laughing went silent as the machine raised its right arm and fired a burst of electricity at her, causing her to lurch over in pain. It began to rush towards her only to meet my counter offensive with my own generator. I certainly couldn't summon a wave, but I could acquire a trench gun as I put fired two slugs directly at the horrible mask. The figure recoiled a little as I tried to get over to the girl. A chair interrupted my path as it crashed between us, followed by a burst of what I could only call a heat-ray.

I could see Miss DeWitt grit her teeth as she slowly rose, now with a tranquil fury in her eyes which was quite frightening. Again she tried to open a tear with much difficulty, while I made some other effort to keep the automaton's attention. I heard her shout something as I fired the last available shell. Where I once saw a tear I could only see a blinding flash of light, a sort of rip into totally empty space. The house began to flip forward as the light began to swallow everything around it like some vortex. I grabbed a firm hold of one of the doorways as the automaton attempted to climb up the increasing incline. I tossed the now empty trench gun at its head, knocking it somewhat out of balance. A bookcase finished it off, sending it flying into the light. The bright light only grew larger as a whole section of the house tore away.

The only other problem was Miss DeWitt, who was losing her own grip on the stairwell.

"Miss DeWitt, take my hand!" I called extending my free hand towards her. She didn't respond, blood running out of her nose as she looked back at me. She reached out, our grips meeting only just as the stairwell joined the rest of the building.

"Any ideas?" I asked, trying not to consider the unpleasantness of what awaited in the light.

"Only one. Hang on." With another gesture the world reshaped itself, as we found ourselves sitting on the dock of a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean. It took me a second to regain my breath, as Miss DeWitt walked out to the pier while looking out to the sea. It was night, with a sky clear as glass.

"What the hell was that, if I may ask. While I always see myself as quite open-minded, there comes a point where human reason ceases its level of comprehension and simply turns itself to terror. We were just attacked by a walking skeleton, and then there was some kind of tear that seemed to actively pull things into it. Do you understand any of this or are you as confused as I am? Because right now, at this very moment, I've passed beyond human rationality. IF you have any way to fill in the holes I'd be glad to learn why that is." I looked at my reflection in the water, showing the thousands of stars above us. I shouldn't have been that angry, but it is my weakness ever since I took to drinking after the war to occasionally break out into fits. It was panic brought on by the entire stresses of the day, and I thought about how useful a cigarette would have been at this point. Nevertheless, Miss DeWitt turned and looked back at me briefly before turning away.

"I don't know what that was or what happened. I might have once, a time long enough ago I sometimes fear I may forget it. Dr. Thomson, I must admit that I really do wish I could help you … I really do, but it seems only misfortune follows me. Everything seems to backfire on me. I've never, ever had that happen to me before. I don't know if it was some kind of blowback, or whatever that thing's machine did to me but my tears have never had that kind of power …" I could hear her stifling tears as I stood up from where I was sitting "but they only ever bring trouble, don't they? This power … it's never brought me any good _ever_. That's why I was alone out here. The Lutece's always just did there own thing while I was left with eternity in the palm of my hand. No one deserves that, and why I was punished with this I don't know. It's gotten more turbulent recently, if you want to know doctor. I can't say why but it has. It's like all of reality has gone mad..." she choked back more tears "Why can't I ever be free of it all?" she said so softly I could barely hear a word over the seas.

I listened to her silently while I removed my coat and approached her. I've never been a man particularly good at emotional support or kindness for those in need, but as I placed it around her shoulders I thought it would be the least I could do as a gentleman. I took a few steps away, turning back towards the lighthouse to see a small shack on the side.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to get some rest, Miss DeWitt." I said, not turning back. For a moment I heard nothing but the gentle beating of the waves, before footsteps joined in on the silent noise. Miss DeWitt passed me with the coat still on before stopping a few paces away.

"Thank you, Dr. Thomson. And you can call me Elizabeth if you'd like." While she certainly remained quite sad, I could still see that little bit of warmth brought about by human kindness. It's the kind that preserves us and gives us strength, the warmth that all families and all good friends feel; the kind Christ had commanded humanity to spread to one another. I smiled back, starting my way up to the shack as well.

"It's my privilege, Elizabeth. And please, don't call me doctor. I've never been a fan of titles or anything, it's a far, far better thing to prove our own worth. My uncle taught me that." She nodded and continued along. We both found our respective spots inside the shack: just a one room shanty with some protection in case weather actually came. As I dozed off, I wondered just where exactly she had taken us and what it was going to take to get back home. I wondered what it was my family was doing at that exact moment, and whether anyone knew I had disappeared.

Some time later I briefly awoke to find Elizabeth had moved during the night and had placed her head on my shoulder. She certainly was a most curious person, I thought to myself, and you best keep a good eye on her Old boy.


End file.
